


When He Finds You Dead

by CosmicJ_Writing



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Dean, Bottom Dean Winchester/Top Sam Winchester, Feels, Hellhounds, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Porn With Plot, Season 2, Top Sam, Wincest - Freeform, crossroad demons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-04-27 02:41:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5030545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CosmicJ_Writing/pseuds/CosmicJ_Writing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam curled up in the bathroom tub of the motel he booked for himself, with his fingers wrapped around the neck of his beer. His hand-written note to his brother burned holes in his left pocket. On the other side of the door, was the unmistakable snarls and the vicious growls of Sam's personal hellhounds. It was almost relieving listening to the beasts. He wasn't terrified, or even sad about the fact, he was about to be dragged to hell. God knows, he belonged there.<br/>So Sam sat still, his lips wrapping around the mouth of his bottle, swigging his beer. The coppery liquid sloshed around his tongue and walls of his mouth. He grinned as the immortal beasts blew out the door of his bathroom, the wood splintering. He shut his eyes as the first set of claws penetrate the surface of his skin.</p><p>Dean dies, and Sam makes a deal. He's making the best out of the few hours he's given, so his crossroad demon sets him up the deal of a lifetime. "Seal the deal, Sam, and your precious Dean will be waiting in lingerie with a bow to top. By the time he wakes in the morning, he'll forget all about it. You two will just be brothers in his head by sunrise."<br/>"Will he ever remember?" He asked the demon.<br/>"When he finds you dead."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm honestly afraid some of you will take it as rape, and this is not meant to a rape fic.  
> This story is based off the last episodes of season 2, so instead of Sam dying, Dean bites the dust.

Sam curled up in the bathroom tub of the motel room he booked for himself, with his fingers wrapped around the neck of his beer. His hand-written note to his brother burned holes in his left pocket. On the other side of the door, was the unmistakable snarls and the vicious growls of Sam's personal hellhounds. It was almost relieving listening to the beasts. He wasn't terrified, or even sad about the fact, he was about to be dragged to hell. God knows, he belonged there.  
So Sam sat still, his lips wrapping around the mouth of his bottle, swigging his beer. The coppery liquid sloshed around his tongue and the walls of his mouth. He grinned as the immortal beasts blew out the door of his bathroom, the wood splintering. He shut his eyes as the first set of claws penetrate the surface of his skin.

You know those moments in movies or stories when the character about to die, has their life flash across their eyes? The only thing that flashed across Sam's eyes, were blurring bathroom lights, black spots, and the last few hours he spent with his older brother.

Sam knew it was supposed to be him, with a thick branch impaled in his back, and rain plastering his hair to his face. Instead, it was Dean, twirling them like dancers and getting in the way. He collapsed against Sam, arms falling limp and blood coating his lips. "To protect my pain-in-the-ass little brother." Dean rasped, his head lolling. Rain mixed with tears, tears mixed with blood, and blood mixed panicked hands to 'patch' the hole. Sam's throat tightened, with the wails and screams he refused to belt out, as he rocked over his dead brother. His body shook, fists punching the ground.

He dropped off Bobby at his house, automatically abandoning him there and driving to the nearest hotel. What was he doing? His thoughts were running a million miles an hour, too fast for his eyes or emotions to catch up. He just wanted to save his brother.   
He carefully laid the pail body on the only bed of their room, sweeping his finger's over the forehead of his brother and laying a kiss on the place where an eyebrow would once crinkle. "I'll be right back." Sam said to nothing, and the door slammed behind him.

"Give me back my brother." Sam said, "Just give him back to me."

"What makes you think I'll give him back so easily? You're a Winchester, and a little birdy told me a certain demon has his name burned on your very soul. Dealing with you," The demon scoffed, batting her eyelashes and turning away from Sam. "It would b my end."

"You'll give him back, because I'm not asking for more years with him. I'm asking for him to be alive, and I'm asking for a few hours with him." Sam cursed the slight beg that could be heard in his voice.

"Well, well. Sammy-wammy, I may be a demon but I'm sensing a hot love thing, and burning desire." The crossroad-demon grinned devilishly. "You know in a past life, I used to love picking on my sister. She loved her brother's boyfriend. Tell you what, I'll make this deal with you, and add a few cherries on the top. Your Dean will be alive and healthy, as healthy as a horse, and he will love the shit out of you. You can frickle-frackle with dear Dean-o, and when he falls asleep he'll forget all about it."

The words that breathed across her lips, made Sam equally disgusted and hopeful all the same. For years he fought the desire for his older brother, his storybook hero that protected him when he was little, like a knight in shining armor. He played it off as hormones and curiosity. Sam lied, called it inexperience, and ran away to college. Jess was there, showed him a new path like Jesus to a new born-again-Christian. Then she burned, and Dean saved him just like old times, reminding Sam that he was sick and nothing changed. He was haunted by Jess, but damn it, sitting next to the man you deeply needed did things to you. He barely saw Dean as his brother, which made him gut-wrenchingly disgusted in fate and himself. 

"Seal the deal, Sam, and your precious Dean will be waiting in lingerie with a bow to top. By the time he wakes in the morning, he'll forget all about it. You two will just be brothers in his head by sunrise." She crossed her arms, leaning into a black stiletto.

"Will he ever remember?" He asked the demon cautiously, not trusting his voice to sound normal."

The demon walked straight up to him, her heels making that annoying pattern of clopping and scraping. Her nails scratched his scalp as she ripped his face down to her level. "When he finds you dead," She breathed in his face, making his gut lurch into his throat. The deal was sealed, in a searing burning kiss. Internally, Sam felt as if a chain had wrapped around his soul, just waiting yank him down into a pit of fears and all things dark and scary. But as the crossroad demon pulled away, he felt he could breathe again, despite his life sentence. His brother was back, waiting for him like a worried wife or husband, or protective boyfriend.

When Sam opened the door, the bed was empty. Dean stood in the bathroom doorframe, with different certain look Sam had never seen other then in the eyes of Jessica. Sam's heart thumped once, and Dean marched up to him, yanking him back by the collar of his shirt and pressing him to the door that was slammed behind him. Sam's breath whooshed, a pair of lips attacking his own and calloused hands cupping his face not so gingerly.

"Where the hell were you?" Dean spit, kissing Sam again. "There was blood on the bed and my shirt. You were gone. I was so worried."

Sam's eyes met the ceiling, not believing the concerned tone coming from his older brother. With one final heart beat, he threw all concerns in the bin and picked his brother up by his thighs, changing positions to press his hips to Dean's. He moved languidly, taking his time to unravel both their clothes, and his brother. Dean writhed, his spine arching off the door. Their chests pressed together. Sam felt there hearts beating against each other.

"What's gotten into you?" Dean moaned. "Don't get me wrong, I'm enjoying this dominance from you. But usually, you let me top."

Sam his hips, hoping to simmer Dean's question. He carried his older brother to the middle of the room, carefully lowering the both of them to the floor. He sucked on Dean's neck, peppering his collar bone and slowly making his way down. He never did this before, not with a guy. Somehow, he knew what he was doing, like he and Dean both had experience with each other, like they knew how their bodies reacted with one another. But Sam was just getting to know Dean's.

Sam's thumb circled Dean's puckered entrance, his mouth working on the lines that lead to his dick. Dean's hips bucked. Sam glanced at his brother's face. He gasped, taking in the sight. Dean's body squirmed, sweat shining off his naked chest, pupils dilated, and cheeks flushed. "Sammy, please." Dean whined. Sam's thoughts backtracked. He never took his brother for a lusty whiner, but it felt normal, and damn it did Sam like it.

Sam swallowed Dean's dick, pushing his thump into his entrance. Dean hissed, his body locking up from the intrusion. Sam bobbed his head slowly down Dean's shaft, keeping his thumb still. Dean's hands twisted in Sam's hair, his knees drawing up.

They stayed in this position, until Dean let out a groan of need and Sam began working a second digit with his thumb, then another. When he removed his hand, Dean let out a string of colorful curses. Sam chuckled, the tip of his untouched dick, dancing between Dean's balls and entrance. Sam slid on arm under his brother's shoulder, his right hand sliding from Dean's ass to the back of his knee. He slid home, his lungs seizing up, as Dean's anal walls sucked Sam down into oblivion. He was high from the moment he entered Dean, dancing between floating and feverishly fucking his older brother. Dean's chin jerked upwards, his yell penetrating the air. Sam sucked on his throat, mixing his thrusts between hard and slow, and hard and fast.

"Sam!" Dean's hands clawed at Sam's back. Sam could feel his balls drawing and tightening up.

"I know." Sam said breathless. With those two words, white hot ejaculation spurted between them. Sam followed after, dropping Dean unceremoniously, and slamming his shaft directly into Dean's prostate, shooting his load.  
Sam rolled off Dean, his brother somehow falling asleep. That night, Sam cried like fucking baby.

He rinsed his face in the bathroom, quickly grabbing some of Dean's clothes from a duffel bag. He dressed him, careful not to wake him before laying him back down in bed. Sam figured, he wouldn't care about the blood spot.

Sam stole a car, some Ford pick-up, and drove miles into the next town. It was four in the morning when he booked a room in a hotel. His heavy, tired eyes glanced at the clock. He yawned, pulling a slightly cool beer he packed in his duffel, and popped the tab. He sipped it. He grabbed a piece of paper from a note pad, ripping it off and decorationg his share with his chicken scrawl of handwriting. Dean would find it soon enough. He should have left a note, before he left his brother. Instead, he crumbled it, stuffing it in his pocket and finishing his beer. He grabbed another, popping the tab.

Sam curled up in the bathroom tub of the motel room he booked for himself, with his fingers wrapped around the neck of his beer. His hand-written note to his brother burned holes in his left pocket. On the other side of the door, was the unmistakable snarls and the vicious growls of Sam's personal hellhounds. It was almost relieving listening to the beasts. He wasn't terrified, or even sad about the fact, he was about to be dragged to hell. God knows, he belonged there.  
So Sam sat still, his lips wrapping around the mouth of his bottle, swigging his beer. The coppery liquid sloshed around his tongue and the walls of his mouth. He grinned as the immortal beasts blew out the door of his bathroom, the wood splintering. He shut his eyes as the first set of claws penetrated the surface of his skin.


	2. He Found You Dead

Dean groaned, sitting up in his bed. He yawned, rubbing his eyes. It was dark outside, stormy and nearly raining. He glanced around the motel room, his memory lazy. He couldn't remember what happened last night, he couldn't even remember driving to the motel. Sam must have driven. Where was Sam? Dean got to his feet, eyes finding a bloody empty bed. 

"Sam?" He yelled, walking to the bathroom. It was empty of course, as was the rest of their motel room. Dean snatched his cell, quickly calling Sam. His little brother never picked up. He swore, pulling jeans over his boxers. He was oddly sore everywhere, something he was beginning to become painfully aware of. What the hell happened last night? 

He grabbed his keys, spinning them on his finger and exiting his room. 

"My truck was stolen! Can't you check the fucking cameras!" A guy all but screamed. The motel guy tried desperately to calm him down. He held his hands up. He was short compared to the pissed off guy.

"Sir, I can't authorize-"

"My truck was fucking stolen! A blue Ford-pickup! Look on the cameras!"

Dean slid into the Impala, already speed dialing Sam as pulled out of the parking lot. "Sam where the hell are you? Some guy's truck was hijacked and you're no where to be seen. Answer the damn phone!" Dean groaned, snapping his cell shut. A feeling bloomed in the pit of stomach, something Dean knew all to well. Fear. 

Dean kept his eyes out, searching for a blue truck. When he did, it was at another motel some miles away. Cop cars surrounded the area, news vans and people. Dean parked on the side, reaching for a badge from the glove department. He glanced at the name and slid out. 

"Sir civil-" Dean held his badge to the cop, and pushed forward, sliding under the yellow crime scene tape. He walked up to a pudgy cop.

"What happened?" He asked. 

"Who are you?" The pudgy cop asked warily. Dean held his badge to him.

"Simon Drew." He said.

"Some guy got torn up in the bathroom. They're saying it was an animal attack." The pudgy officer slouched. On cue, a zipped up body bag rolled out. Dean watched, fear clutching his throat.

Dean waltzed up to the body, hands reaching to unzip at the head. When he did, he wished he didn't. Dean stumbled back, falling on his knees as memories began to leak past their barrier. He fell to his knees, hot warmth shooting up his throat. His body heaved and wretched.

"Sir, are you okay? Sir, do you know this man?"

Dean shoved their hands away, getting to his feet and running. He had sex with his little brother. Dean wretched again, eyes burning. He had sex with his little brother, and his brother was dead. He clutched at his shirt, feeling like his heart was going to explode. He chocked.

He never did find his brother's note.

**Author's Note:**

> I am super freaking proud with this story! I hope you enjoyed it! I'm writing these notes at 2 in the morning! Please leave a comment about what you liked about or what needs to improve. Constructive criticism is welcome!


End file.
